Down But Not Out...a serious take on life and poetry...

February 18, 2010

Down But Not Out...a serious take on life and poetry

I’m going to talk about beat poets today. Why? I’m not exactly sure, other than I’m pretty much just rolling with whatever jumps into my head on some days and if that doesn’t scare you, then you are a hearty one!

Literature inspires me, poetry in particular. I’ve got my favorites that I “study,” just for the heck of it and, let’s be honest, if that doesn’t flash a railroad crossing-type sign proclaiming, “Geek!” I’m not sure what does. I adore Harlem Renaissance writers and they hold the top place on my list, but I hanker for open forms of poetry and the beat poets really float my boat.

“Beat” poets, as in “down and out,” beat up and, seemingly done for, except the very feelings that inspire their craft, bring about their salvation through the craft. The term “I’m beat,” as in tired, found its way into our lexicon, along with, “Hey, you beat me,” when someone wins some sort of event during competition. How refreshing to turn a negative message into a chance to make it different through the power of emotive words. Being "beat" is temporary and when we're down, the next directional pull is up.

We’ve all felt as though we just wanted to “Howl,” as Alan Ginsberg did with that eponymous poem and so it’s empathy at its best to read these poems that speak our pain as we gnash our teeth at the unfairness of it all. One of the solid outcomes of poetry is the fact that it is cathartic for both the writer and reader. Beat poets have inspired generations and legions of us, including spoken word poets who rhythmically slice, dice and pare down messages to the real essence that is life and all of the promise it holds.

In fact, the literary theorist and critic, Northrup Frye when talking about creating said, “The fundamental job of the imagination in ordinary life, then, is to produce out of the society we have to live in, a vision of the society we want to live in.” It is in this way that we formulate our own individual mission statements whereby, even if our messages are seemingly negative they hold transformative possibilities. It is through the expression of the negative that we open ourselves to the resurrection of the positive and all of those rich redemptive elements that allow us to reconnect and begin anew.

If you’re a poet, then you would agree with Robert Frost when he said, “To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.” We don’t define the work, the work defines us. I've written poetry since I was a little kid in third grade, all scabbed knees, freckled of face and filled with joy over all I had to say. Those sweet early poems of mine would be the precursor to all of the stages of my life that would follow; the angst-filled prepubescent youth, the sufferer at the hands of unrequited love, the angry, heavy eyeliner-using young dancer and the humbled, but joyous new mom. It's all there in verse, meter, line and time.

LeRoi Jones has a short and profound poem about finding our place in the world and when educating America's youth I have taken hours and multiple white boards to explicate this poem, it is so rich with meaning, so I will leave you his provocative words:

I can’t say who I am.
Unless you agree I’m real.

By Le Roi Jones

aka Amiri Baraka

January 15, 2010

I am enamored of Langston Hughes; the man and his work. I know I share this sentiment with many scholars and bibliophiles and I’ve had the pleasure of studying both he and period in which he produced much of his work – the Harlem Renaissance. This spawned the topic for my master’s thesis, “Changing the Exchange,” which examines his poetry and offers up some theories I have about his work, overall. The depth and breadth of what Langston created, his numerous travels and unending perseverance in the face of so, so much adversity, make him a great focus at all times, particularly in times such as these, when hope is needed. Well-known for his poem “Dream Deferred,” which prefaces the written version of Lorraine Hansberry’s phenomenal play, A Raisin the Sun, he underpins all of his work with the thematic linchpin of dreams. I was particularly enthralled with his poem “Cultural Exchange,” which was rich with layers of meaning and multiple allusions that led to weeks of research just to explicate the meaning of a few of the elements. Having said that, I love equally the fact that Langston was creatively influenced by the music of his time and so I’d like to share with you one of my favorite poems by him called, “Juke Box Love Song.”

Juke Box Love Song

I could take the Harlem night and wrap around you,

Take the neon lights and make a crown,

Take the Lenox Avenue busses,Taxis, subways,

And for your love song tone their rumble down.

Take Harlem's heartbeat,

Make a drumbeat,

Put it on a record, let it whirl,

And while we listen to it play,

Dance with you till day--

Dance with you,

my sweet brown Harlem girl.

By: Langston Hughes

Link to Diane’s master’s thesis for fun: (And, actually, it was a whole lotta fun to research and write!)

http://www.rosecroixjournal.org/issues/2009/articles/vol6_01_36_dean-epps.pdf

Had I But Known..a poem about a remembered friend

"Had I But Known" is a poem written about a friend of mine who left this plane of existence far, far too soon, two years ago. We worked together in television, but both moved away with our respective families in the ensuing years. Lo and behold, we discovered that we had moved to the same community and our families bonded. The friendship is one I treasured, and I still treasure, as well as the continuing best friend relationship our daughters still enjoy with each other.

Recently a new on-line poetry magazine called, "Eye on Life--Poetry Unlocked" launched and along with it was the launching and first run of "Had I But Known" which follows.

Had I But Known


Had I but known it was the last time I’d see you
I’d have arranged a coffee time big and bold on the calendar
Marking the event as a singular and tangible reality

Had I but known that your future would be a short trip down the timeline
I’d have asked you to tell me more about your past, and I’d have listened raptly
Imprinting every fact, every event, honoring your matchless journey

Had I but known how significant that last trivial conversation really was
I’d have recorded every word, every nuance, every implied punctuation mark
For later review during bittersweet times of reflection and painful consideration

Had I but known that I would have more that I wanted to hear from you,
That I had more I wanted to say to you about our shared history,
I’d have cautioned you, bargained with fate, searched for a profound statement
That would have told everything, but changed nothing.
Had I But Known.